Black Friday
by The Unpredictable Muse
Summary: A heavily pregnant woman is stranded alone on Purge Night. One shot Prompt by an Anon Request.


7:05 pm.

Brandy hobbled along a windy straight and narrow street through the better side of the city. Streetlights turned the gauntlet into a booby-trapped death race no one could feasibly survive without a scrape with death. She tried to run, but her swollen feet throbbed, and the mesh athletic shoes only helped so much. Her large belly protruded and made hiding more difficult. Back of her mind, she had a nasty gut feeling someone had been following her. All week she felt as if the world weighed on her like an impossible-to-ignore warning she somehow missed.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Ducking into an alley, she dug the phone out with shaking hands. A bright screen illuminated the dark alley and gave away her exposed position. Cursing her bad luck, Brandy Wilson plotted the next steps.

Find a safe place and stay put until 7. It's what she needed to do.

Since they implemented the Purge, Brandy ensured each year she was safe. This year she suffered set back after set back. First, she popped pregnant on a pee stick and then Porter left her with all the bills and turned into a full-time party drunk. The car had started to act up, and she put off repairs as long as she could, but tonight before she made it home, it quit. Stranded on the side of the road, she called a tow truck, amazed that one picked her up and then towed her to a shop, her hopes of being safe this year sank when the tow truck driver abandoned her at the mechanics. One lewd suggestion from the overweight mechanic and his scrawny apprentice set her on the long walk back home to a shoebox sized apartment.

Dying on the streets appealed to her more than being someone's sex toy. Heavily pregnant sex toy. Ick. What was wrong with people these days? Where did morality flee too?

Too big to safely climb or become acrobatic on, she clutched her belly and the unborn child she never wanted but conceived 8 and half months ago with her then-partner Porter Averoe. Once the pregnancy test popped positive, Porter moved out and offered to pay for the abortion. She refused and mourned the loss of someone she thought was a lifetime partner. Since then she's moved on and fought to be the mother her mother was to her.

Breathing heavy, she gathered the courage and stepped out into the empty stretch of potential murder ground.

A steady drip close by chipped away at the feeble confidence she cobbled into a purge shield. She avoided the water filled pothole and rounded the corner onto a ghostly quiet street. Sticking to the shadows she scanned the ground for any hint of traps advertised on television. Rapidly her attention flicked from the sidewalk and street at eye level. Each step made a sound that marked her presence, a fact she shied from.

Must run. Must hide.

Her chest hurt and she swore her legs would give out within the next two hours. Breathing heavy, she swung her arms counter to the leading foot and directed her attentions to less worrisome subjects. Like the cute baby outfits, she planned to buy for her little darling once it was born. She chose to not learn the sex because it would make the first introduction that much sweeter. Pink and purple and yellow for a girl and blue and greens for a boy. Yes, she'd cash in all the coupons and shop conservatively until her baby owned more clothes than she did.

With no money for the bus and no trust in anyone two hours from 7 pm., she measured her successful return to home at roughly past 7 pm around 7:10 or 7:20. She would have made it if it weren't for the early purgers. Hiding for a solid half hour as a gang of office workers terrorized and beat down someone in sweats and smeared make up, she made a break for it when they left the area.

Two streets down she crossed a pile of bodies separated from their heads. A grotesque bleeding basket filled with heads tucked in a corner faintly lit by a streetlamp flickering. Almost vomiting on the bodies, she hurried onward and past an observant executioner mid-swing. The gagged and bound victim squirmed before stilling, head and body falling different ways.

Her phone vibrated again.

Not here. Not now. Mom, please!

_Where are you? Your neighbor says you're not home._

Her mother checked on her each purge night. She returned the favor, except this year due to car troubles. Like a nurse caring for a patient on the last leg of life, her mother smothered her as if she were still a teenager. She loved the woman but needed her space.

_At a friend's._ She replied quickly, fingers twitching.

_Which?_

_Don't worry, Mom_

_I'm your mother_

She shoved her phone back in her pocket and paused at the corner out of instinct. No gun shots, screaming, or unusual sounds.

7:15 pm.

GPS said home was another twenty minutes along some of the main straight throughways.

Given the choice between the straight throughways or back streets that would lengthen the walk, she chose the less cumbersome. She loved to walk, but this tested her limits and she worried it might stress the baby and kickstart labor. With no option but forward, she pressed on. Constantly checking the phone for the time, each minute stretched into an hour. The outline of the four storied squared building eased her anxieties. Letting out a glorious cry of relief, the miracle burst of energy propelled her forward across the homestretch like an athlete in first place the last few feet of the most important race. Springing through the front door cracked open (No, she did not care about this security risk given the scary walk home!) she gripped the railing on the stairwell to keep her balance.

Her feet wanted to fall off and shrivel up and shooting pains up her shins and minor aches in her thighs and calves reminded her of her athletic limitations. So close to her apartment, she'd crawl up the steps if she had to.

Midway to the second floor, she nearly walked into a solid mass of man, assault rifle, and armor. His hands caught her and held her steady. "Ma'am."

"Sorry." She mumbled automatically.

"Let the lady through." A gruff voice demanded.

She lifted her eyes off the chest and onto the face of a bearded man with the kindest blue eyes. Despite the fact he dressed for violence and carried a real assault rifle loaded with ammunition, she allowed herself the moment to admire his gentlemanly manners. "Thank you. Pardon me." Shuffling around the trio of similarly dressed men, she labored up the steps fueled by sheer determination.

Stepping out onto her floor, the weight of the entire nightmare walk lifted off her shoulders. Nearly dropping her keys, she prayed her mother wasn't hiding in her apartment waiting to lecture her. Brandy needed a little peace and quiet from the Purge night.

The satisfying clicking of the lock shifting and the handle turning, she closed her eyes and leaned into the opened door.

Thank the lucky stars she made it back alive.

Remembering the night, she hurried inside and locked the door. Pressing her forehead to the solid wood door, she let out a breath.

Finally home.

A thin plastic type cord wrapped around her neck and pulled back. Fingers clawed at the tightening restraint, air flow narrowing until spots of blackness obstructed her limited view. Falling back limply into two sets of arms, Brandy Wilson passed out.

SCENE BREAK

Phae whistled for the muscle of the operations to take over for her and Megan. Two men strategically replaced the two middle aged women and carried the unconscious resident to her bedroom turned operation room. An obstetrician-gynecologist hunched over his sanitary supplies and tools needed for the c-section and tubal ligation Phae Marconi bought and paid for.

As a wealthy socialite, Phae Marconi expected to live a certain life and she strived to achieve the invisible standards she set for herself and her husband. They tried to conceive for years the traditional, pleasurable method. She feared hiring a surrogate and thought the idea of her and her husband's child carried in another's womb set wrong with her. Stealing a child from someone who was unworthy of raising and loving that bundle of joy – no issue. Phae felt no guilt for tracking down Brandy Wilson, then stalking her for the last four months.

She paid an investigator to track the biological father, disgusted by his coarse disregard for the woman who carried his blood child. At the least Porter Averoe could call occasionally to ask Miss Wilson if she was well and how his baby was.

The text the investigator report exposed dropped her jaw and enraged her husband.

How dare the fool demand an abortion? A middle term abortion that no law would permit, at that. Oh, she fixed Porter Averoe, but he wouldn't be found until the following morning. His hours were numbered, and she'd flaunt the baby in front of him and boast of how she 'fixed' his ex-girlfriend for being a slut who refused to utilize birth control.

Sluts were able to conceive children left and right, but she – an honest to god fearing woman – was denied the right of motherhood?

No. The Good Lord had plans and she refused to follow them. The Good Lord would understand when she raised another to love and fear him as she was taught to love and fear him by her faithful parents and grandparents.

"She's not going to wake up until morning. Phae. You'll finally have your baby." Megan pat her on the back and side hugged her.

The bedroom door closed Miss Wilson, the nurse, and obstetrician-gynecologist, and two armed guards in and away from the two ladies responsible for her impromptu c-section. Megan Evanski ran an adoption organization and met Phae through a donation Mr. Marconi allocated for the noble cause. They connected instantly and became each other's plus one to the charity balls Mrs. Marconi attended in place of her husband and the occasional black-tie event that Megan hosted for the adoption agency. Large donors commonly sponsored Traditional Families and the Marconis were one of several, but Phae was more down to earth than the rest of the high-class women Megan encountered.

It made sense considering Phae came from nothing and married into money whereas the others came from money and treated money as a given and not a luxury easily stripped away.

"Once the baby is born, we will leave, the doctor will finish his tasking, and then we will dispose of Mr. Averoe." Phae announced firmly. She embraced her friend and relaxed. Her soul burst with the unexpressed love and adoration she contained for the baby nurtured in the wrong womb. The curse that such a brainless female would introduce a beautiful child into this heartless world and then struggle to raise it properly. Not support network, whatsoever.

Better she take over and give it a proper life where food wasn't a constant worry and the bills haunted the meager checkbook.

Seating themselves in the couch stuffed into the corner like a second thought, they scanned the small apartment better labeled a trap for the less fortunate. Threadbare carpet the color of boring beige and off-white walls with black accents on the window frames and baseboards added a certain 'charm', but the décor choice of the resident left much to be desired. Framed pictures of flowers hand drawn and poorly colored spotted the walls. A clear vase weighed down with decorative glass gems and shells filled with plastic colorful flowers distastefully paired together centered on the kitchen island covered in tile carefully laid and grouted. The grout, a nasty off color, made Phae want to scrub the entire island with bleach and then lecture Miss Wilson on how to keep a clean home.

A clean home and well-cooked food kept a man interested, but great sex hooked them for life. The first two were essential for luring in the unsuspecting men. The last was essential for staying married.

She breathed deeply and made the call. "We'll dispose of Mr. Averoe now. The baby will be safe in Anthony's hands. He's the proud papa of three and one on the way. Trust me, Meg."

Megan didn't trust a man alone with a newborn infant, especially on Purge night. Her expression exposed the discontent, and Phae brushed it off in true Phae fashion.

Knocking on the door and extracting Gianni, the ladies used the front entrance and were met with a black armored SUV capable of surviving the basic purgers. Traveling through empty streets and driving through all the red lights with extra zest, Gianni delivered them to the Marconi estate in under a half hour.

Mr. Marconi greeted them with glasses of wine and informed them the male was chained in one of the guest rooms as requested via phone call during the travel between homes. He squeezed his wife's ass before she skipped away to the guest bedroom on the second floor, home to Mr. Averoe for over a week. No one knew they drugged him at the club and then absconded with him to the Marconi estate. One of Fabio's younger cousins mimicked Mr. Averoe's texting style and kept up the communications to hold off the suspicions. Tito would be disappointed to stop flirting with four women gifted with C and D cups, but Fabio arranged for Tito to meet several nice Italian young ladies to compensate for the loss.

He turned his head to the side as a single gun shot echoed in the mansion.

Soon.

His child would be in its rightful home.


End file.
